


soul-destroying

by lobisomem



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 06:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13381755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobisomem/pseuds/lobisomem
Summary: Chas visits John in Ravenscar.





	soul-destroying

John wasn’t there.

Well, he was there, sitting right in front of Chas. But it felt like he wasn’t.

His eyes were fixated on a point in the distance between them, head crooked, mouth slightly open. It had been about half an hour since Chas arrived, and they hadn’t exchanged a word. Chas was moving uncomfortably in his chair, swallowing saliva and nothing else, hands sometimes on the side, sometimes on the table.

He didn’t know what to say.

Sure, there were a lot of things to be said: he wanted to know how they were treating him, if he was eating well, if he was taking his medication. He wanted to tell him news about Geraldine – maybe because that would distract him, but thinking again, maybe that would make him think about Astra, how she was deprived of the life Geraldine had. The death of a child was never easy. Especially when they were taken right in front of you.

“So.”, Chas started, “How–”, he choked on his words, “How are they treating you?”

“Alright.”, John answered, without looking at him. His hands were together on the table, a paper bracelet around his wrist.

“Made any friends?”, he felt stupid. Of course he hadn’t made any friends. He wasn’t in school, he was committed to a mental hospital.

John shrugged. “Sometimes I talk to the bloke who keeps singing _Happy Birthday_ to himself.”

“What do you talk about?”

His mouth opened again, but it took him a while to answer, “I just ask him to shut up. He then yells the song lyrics at me. Sometimes I just want something to listen to other than the noise here, you know. All the screaming and crying and fuck knows what else.”

“Maybe I will bring you a Sex Pistols record the next time I come.”, Chas said, half serious. He expected John to smile, but nothing happened.

God, he just wanted him to give Chas something other than that look. There was nothing in his eyes; they seemed blank, dead.

“Are you taking your meds?”, he asked then.

“They don’t work.”, John said, almost automatically, “‘least it’s what they say. They want to give me shock therapy. They strap you to chair and fry your brains to see if it will wake you up.”

Chas gulped. That seemed painful. He imagined John strapped to a chair, quivering as a leaf in the wind, with God knows how many volts being delivered to his brain. He didn’t want that for him.

He dropped his gaze and saw John’s hands on the table again. The were pale, the area around his nails were red. He reached for them, taking both in one of his own hands.

It was only then that John looked at him.

His eyes were red as well. He needed to shave – although he never did properly shave – and his lips were so dry there was a thin line of blood in the middle of the bottom one. Chas wondered if he kissed him, he would look more alive, like John again. He wanted to, but he didn’t do it.

John blinked, slowly. He interlocked his fingers in Chas’ and squeezed them. There was no warmth.

“I’ve missed you, mate.”, John said, almost whispering.

Chas felt like he could cry.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Chas then took John’s hand to his own lips, kissing them softly.

He didn’t expect him to react. And he didn’t.

They just stayed that way, fingers interlocked, Chas breathing on their hands.

“‘s gonna be alright.”, John muttered, “I’ll get out soon.”

Chas wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> (not-so) fun fact: shock therapy is only given to patients with depression so severe they barely respond to commands, which means John was probably nearly catatonic when he got to Ravenscar.


End file.
